Requiem For The Living
by Ultanerd
Summary: Aizen is a notorious gang leader. Rukia is 1 of his assassins known as a death god. Ichigo and Renji are new recruits for the task force Seireitei hunting him. Can they bring down the devil with the help of his tortured angel, or will she burn as well?
1. Chapter 1

**Okay, a few quick notes here. The story will explain things along the way, though if you have questions feel free to review and ask them. I like Bleach and I love to write and so this Fic was born, but I am not pro expert on the usages of Japanese titles so you can laugh at my expense if I get it wrong, but most of this is just gonna be straight English. Um, all done I think so here ya go…**

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Chapter One

"Crap he sure as hell is gonna be pissed about this one."

"Yeah, but when you think about it this wasn't really even our fault, he gave us the wrong information to begin with. There was no way we could have done the job with out this happening."

The first voice began to laugh. It was mirthless and hollow. "Do you really think that he will care? We were fucked from the beginning. Now, stop being lazy and help me clean this up."

The teenaged boy looked at his partner for a moment before jumping in to help. Despite the apparent cool she was keeping, he could tell that she was anxious. It was completely understandable and justified too, but that only made it all the more frightening. This had been one hell of a thing to screw up.

They straightened every thing up in a hurried silence. Chairs were put back, dishes were picked up and every surface was wiped clean. There wasn't too much that could be done for the floor, but they still mopped up as best as could be done.

"Alright, that's all that we can really do." The pair looked back at the scene they had created. It was only supposed to be one person and everything was to be done quick, easy and clean. Unfortunately three men and a woman now sat at the table with their heads resting upon it. Their brains and guts painted the walls and floor of the room and there was thousands of dollars worth of damage done to the home. There had been a big struggle and a lot of loud noises before the four had finally been exterminated. Not only that, but the increase in difficulty of the mission and the fact that they had had to clean up put them almost fatally behind schedule.

Once in the car the boy pulled off the beanie cap he had been wearing until now to reveal a shock of blue hair. He revved up the engine and began to speed away towards their boss. He couldn't help the feeling of guilt and fear that washed over him, as they got closer to their destination. His stupidity made things worse than they already had been, and even if he tried to take the blame his companion wouldn't let it happen.

His eyes wandered from the road over to the person sitting next to him. She wore a slight frown, but other than that, she seemed almost expressionless. This was her usual mask, and he couldn't help but think of how it always gave her an air of mourning. It seemed fitting for what was to come.

The car was slowly brought to a halt and its occupants got out looking like they were marching to a funeral procession. It was quite possible that they were walking to their own. The sounds of footsteps bounced around the halls of the prison that they normally called home. A miasma of apprehension made walking forward a difficult task. It slowed their steps as it sped their hearts. Yet finally, and unfortunately, they reached the door and their destination. Heads bowed and eyes on the floor, they shuffled into the room.

"Are you both aware that you are extremely late," a rich voice greeted them with an almost amused quality to it. _Almost_ amused.

"Forgive us Aizen-sama."

"Forgive you? Well that depends entirely on your reasons as to why you were late. Now then I certainly hope it is good."

The girl spoke up to give the report and though her words were spoken with confidence fear still managed to worm its way in. "The target has been eliminated as order. Unfortunately there were some complications. The target was not alone. There were three people in the house with him that had to be killed as well. With the increased resistance it couldn't be done as cleanly as you had requested. The victims were taken down only after several shots and wounds. The facilities also took severe damage."

"So what your telling me is that the job I ordered to be done neatly, to reflect this organization, looks like a couple of common thugs bashed in and did it." The girl nodded, seeing no way to get out of it. Only fools lied to Aizen, but that didn't mean that the truth was all that much better.

Aizen stood up from his desk and walked towards them. Standing at his full height he cut quite an imposing figure. His clothes for the most part hid his musculature; they were just like him, classy, formal, and deceptive. The two fell to their knees as he approached. One would always bow before Aizen. It didn't matter who you were you just did it.

He stopped when they were both able to see his finely polished shoes. Several minutes seemed to pass with out a word being said. It was Aizen's second, Ichimaru Gin, who seemed to have materialized out of the shadows, that broke the tenuous silence.

"Come now Captain, are you going to do something or not, because frankly I'm bored." The man's greasy voice filled the room and made the boy sick. Gin was known in the group for being a pervert and a sadist. His presence made the whole situation even more dangerous than it already was.

"I am still amazed at how these two managed to fail so utterly at what I consider simple instructions. I can't seem to find the words to convey my…disappointment."

"Well you know I have always found that actions speak louder than words." With that statement Aizen sounded an affirmative. Slowly he bent down and grabbed the boy by the chin, lifting up his face. The two looked at each other, dark brown eyes piercing blue ones.

"Would you mind telling me what happened? How did you screw up, Grimmjow? Hmm?"

"It wasn't his fault I was in command and made a bad call leading to the prolonged struggle." Grimmjow stared at his partner in shock. No one was that big of an idiot. She had just spoken out of turn _and _lied to the man's face. After all she had taken care of her first man in a matter of seconds. If he hadn't botched up they might've gotten out okay. The worst part was there was nothing he could do for her. If he contradicted what had just been said, it would just make things worse. The relief that came when Aizen shifted his attention sickened him.

"I would not have figured. I was willing to assume that you preformed the task given and that this fool made a mess of things. You are one my best trained here, yet you have failed in more ways than one. How disappointing, I spent so much time training you. I expected better Rukia." Grimmjow only saw the back of Aizen's head, but judging by the expression on Rukia's face, the full force of the man's predatory gaze was focused on her.

Something that is not seen much by the lower ranking troops is their leaders capability. To have taken over an already well-established gang, one would have to be almost inhumanly smart, strong, and fast. The foot soldiers were lucky that they never had to experience it. The hit had come fast enough that Grimmjow had been completely unable to see it. The only thing that he caught was Rukia sent flying across the room. His nails dug into his knees deeper and deeper, as he listened to the pained gasps coming from behind.

The boy didn't dare turn his head as Aizen walked past him towards his partner. It turns out that it isn't possible to grind your teeth hard enough to drown out the sound of someone getting smashed against a wall. Every choked whimper seemed deafeningly loud. Rukia's petite body flew past and slammed into the desk that was several feet in front of him, causing several papers to fall.

"Grimmjow, I suggest you spend a few extra hours training to hone your skills, but you are free to go. And Gin could you finish up my conversation with Rukia, this is a new suit." The teen stood and walked out numbly. What little idiot would purposely do that? How stupid did someone have to be to pull a stunt like that? He stumbled down hallways limply, not able to focus until he actually ran into somebody.

"Well you seem slightly more retarded than normal. Did you finally get that lobotomy I suggested?" Grimmjow only stared at the other boy in front of him. Despite the fact that Grimmjow was several inches taller, Ulquiorra could kick his ass any day of the week. The other boy raised a questioning eyebrow. It was strange to see any kind emotion or interest on his pale face, which was almost always completely blank. The kid even beat out Rukia on impassiveness.

"I fucked up. She took the blame. She's…she…Rukia is at fucking Gin's mercy." It came out choked and hoarse, but Ulquiorra still heard it all to well. The pale teen balanced himself on the wall, dark black hair obscuring his face. His worry was radiating off in almost tangible waves. It would have been a normal reaction for most who heard that. After all Gin had a very nasty, well-known reputation, but not only that, it had been clear for years that his favorite victim of choice was Rukia. Yet to see the emotion on Ulquiorra's face, as he looked up, the panic and trepidation in his emerald eyes, only twisted the apprehension that Grimmjow felt like a knife in his gut. He almost cursed Ulquiorra for it, but stopped. It would have been wrong for him not to worry. Rukia was his baby sister after all.

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I hoped you liked it. Next chapter should introduce new characters and start working its way towards plot. Now, I have no set pairings in mind. Reviewing could help me decide, if you catch my drift.

**MAKE YOUR VOICE HEARD…REVIEW!!! **


	2. Chapter 2

**Phew, O.K. done. First of all I'd like to apologize if the back end of this loses coherency at some points. I just got back from being sliced and diced at the surgeon's office and am under the influence of several painkillers. It sounds fine to me, but then again, when I stand up the worlds seems to pick up speed and CSI Miami suddenly became entertaining again. Either way I'm posting this now cuz I feel like it.**

**NOTE: _Italics_ _equal flashbacks__ not__ thought._**

**WARNING: Graphic scenes. (It's an M fic for a reason) NOT RAPE!! All in all not to bad but if it offends you, struggle through it. It provides important information for future conflict and character development.**

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Chapter 2

Pain is relative. What one person might consider painful might only be some thing of a mild irritant to others. People can be born with a natural tolerance, or the will to bear it, but like all things, the tolerance of pain is built up over time. It's not that breaking your arm more than once makes doing so less painful, it is just that the perception of what is truly painful, or beyond the ability to endure, shifts.

Rukia Schifferis no stranger to pain.

Natural tolerance, will, experience, she has it all, but continuous waves of punishment will eventually erode any barrier. She knew she was pushing at her limits when she could no longer tell which ribs were broken, and which were only bruised. There were three for sure, yet there could be more. With all the loud crashes and bangs, it would have been impossible to hear any pops and her whole torso was aflame with such a rabid pain, that it was impossible to really feel any new damage.

"Well my dear, nothing to say. You have been awfully quiet today, which is really such a shame seeing as you have one of the most beautiful voices I have ever heard." Gin said the last word with a grunt as he twisted one of her fingers sharply. Rukia could not completely choke back the scream in her throat, and it came out as a strained sob. The fact that he could not elicit a full fledged cry of agony only seemed to fuel the anger of the man, as well as excite him. His knee pressed on her fractured rib as he jammed at the finger that he had already broken, grating bone against bone.

The scream he had waiting for tore through the room. The combination of the fresh jet of pain slicing up her arm and the ribs that now seemed to be stabbing right back into her chest made everything fall into a reddish blur for a moment. Gin could not help but feel slightly cheated when the gurgling of blood cut it short.

Rukia was still coughing up a red froth when a hard kick came to her side and rolled her over. She looked up at the ceiling dully, trying to orient herself, but Gin's every smiling face shadowed her view. He lay atop her, legs pinning her in place. She felt the bottom of her shirt begin to rise up along her body. Gin's cruel fingers left small trails of blood as they passed. Vaguely she registered what he was doing, but it wasn't until the small giggle that escaped his lips, that the room stopped spinning.

_Everything is dark. The small room suffocates her, and only seems to shrink as each footstep falls like the toll of a funeral bell. Darkness is frightening, but with light comes an all-consuming terror. She pleads to a god that never listens for the door to not open; yet once more He remains deaf to her cries. Light floods the room._

Adrenalin ripped through her veins, taking control of her body and reason like a drug. Though twice her weight and with years more experience, Gin was thrown off and sent sprawling. The haze brought on by the injuries she had accumulated, vanished. Instead everything grew brighter and things seemed unnaturally clear. She watched as her tormentor rose, his grin growing wider.

"This is why you are my favorite. There is no one that can make me smile as much as you… no one is this fun." Thanks to the "fight or flight" mindset she was in, Rukia was able to see and block the swift kick that came her way and supply a quick counter to push him back as well. The arm that took the blow now hung limply, blood running down in rivulets. No one but Gin would think to line the sides of his shoes with small, jagged razors.

Ichimaru Gin was completely unrivaled in the art of combat, but for Aizen himself. Rukia knew that she would have to get extremely lucky in the next few seconds if she wanted to take him down. Aizen probably wouldn't let her live for it, but at this point, death seemed to be the outcome no matter what path she took. She gave no warning, no call of challenge or battle cry. She just drove straight at the fox as swiftly as her limbs would take her aiming for the arteries in his neck or leg with the two small knives that she always kept on her person.

Gin dodged the swipe at his neck with an easy step backwards. Rukia spun on her foot and brought down the second knife in a wide arc with as much speed and force as she could supply. Surprise was the first thing he felt. The girl managed to give him a shallow cut, despite all the injuries she had. He didn't think that Rukia would be able to twist and shift momentum as fast as she did, or even be able to hold the knife, and didn't expect it. The next thing he felt was giddy rage. She pissed him of in just the right way, generating the feeling that only she could.

Gin got low and struck out with a swiping kick that allowed the razors on his shoes to rip into her midsection. There was a few moments were Rukia's body couldn't seem to process exactly what happened. The blow disoriented her senses as her body attempted to provide more adrenaline to combat the shock. Gin took advantage of the opportunity and grabbed the front of her now torn shirt. He ground his teeth into another aching smile as he reared back his fist preparing to punch. Rukia saw the fist speeding towards her, but could get her muscles to respond and stop it.

Fist connected with flesh.

Aizen stood with a casual lean, easily holding back the blow that was meant for the beaten girl behind him.

"This has gone on far enough, Gin. I believe she has learned her lesson and you have had your fun. It would do me no good if either of you died at this point."

A rare frown graced the silver-haired man's features, but he let his fist slip to his side and walked out of the room obediently with out a word. Aizen went back to his desk and began looking through papers. With out looking up he gave his dismissal.

Some how, Rukia made it to her room. Sound didn't seem to be working correctly, like it was underwater. She practically laughed when she looked in the mirror. Bruises seemed to be visible on every inch of exposed skin, but her face, which was miraculously untouched. The last of the adrenaline high began to taper off and the room began to melt into a spinning blur of color. Rukia managed a drunken stumble into bed. The last coherent thought she had was that sleep was probably a horrible idea considering the fact she most likely had a concussion.

Darkness enveloped her, embracing her softly.

The blur gave way to cheap plaster, only to come once again with the labored beat of her heart. Every other moment it seemed to come in to focus and then fuzz out. It had been like this for a couple hours. Maybe, minutes. Or Seconds? The monotony and glacial speed of thought made it hard to tell.

Thump. Black. White. Plaster.

If there had been some change to the cycle maybe lying there for eternity wouldn't have been that bad. Still, it beat the alternative, which went something along the lines of getting up.

An uncertain amount of time later, the blurs in vision stopped. Instead each pulse seemed to send a throb through her entire body. With a groan Rukia turned her head and look at the clock. Bright red numbers flashed "6:52 P.M." She let out another groan. That meant that at the very least she had been out for fourteen hours.

Propped up against the clock was small piece of paper. Cautiously she reached out for it, surprised to find her hand bandaged and her cracked ribs considerably less sore than they should have been. The neat print on the card read, "I'm out for work for a couple days. Feel better and don't do anything stupid." It wasn't signed but there was no mistaking who wrote it. A small smile made its way to her face as she read Ulquiorra words. He must have patched her up before going on his mission. Though he never really expressed it, she knew how deeply Ulquiorra cared for her. She felt bad for making him worry about her while he was working. Anything but complete focus was deadly.

After a few minutes and several groans of pain later, Rukia managed to get dressed and out of bed. Experience seemed to show that she healed better when she was out doing something. It took a few minutes of wobbling down hallways before she began to regain the ability to put one foot in front of another competently. She carefully pushed open one of the many doors leading out of the base, and into the crisp chill of the night air. The cool was clean, despite the surrounding alley's filth. She paused, this could certainly fall under the "doing something stupid" category, after all, she was pretty banged up to be walking around the streets this late. Hands in her pockets and humming a tune, Rukia began her almost leisurely stroll. Her brother would probably consider this stupid, but her destination was fairly close. That and the cool metal pressing against her back reassured her while she walked down the bloodstained streets that paved this man made hell.

The young man's scowl cut deeper into his face as he watched the woman's disapproving look focused intently on his hair. It didn't matter what he would tell or say to people, the fact that it was so unnatural a color always made them think that he was arrogant or some kind of troublemaker. It didn't really matter to him that that was an almost perfect description of his personality. He was sure that if he was given a decent chance to prove himself with out prejudice, he wouldn't conform to their expectations.

He sighed. It didn't really matter since looking like a hood was a part of the job description. Tiredly, his intense eyes wandered the room. It looked like any plain reception area for a small reality office. There were two small couches and the cushioned chair he sat on. On the small coffee table in the center of the room there lay several outdated magazines with vibrant covers advertising the latest celebrity scandal. In the corner there was a cheap water heater and several packets of instant coffee and tea. The secretary wore glasses and had cheap fake nails that seemed to clack against the table every few seconds.

After around half an hour he thought for sure he would go crazy and start tipping things over. Fortunately for both him and the woman behind the desk, another woman a few years older than he, stepped through the door leading to the main building. She also wore glasses and the standard outfit for the modern secretary, but she gave of an air of severity and a seriousness that practically bordered on danger. This woman was of a whole different breed.

"Hello sir, I am your new reality agent. To get started, in what part of the city do you wish to move to?"

The young man put none of the false pretense she had into his voice. His answer came out low, as if he was giving a solemn oath. "The night. I wish to search for a castle in the night." There was a gleam in her eyes as she turned around and motioned for him to follow.

"So you're the new recruit. Sorry for the wait but there was several things we had to check first. Knowing the code isn't enough. You looked a little young as well, but then again, so was the other one we picked up. He'll be your partner from now on so try to make a good first impression." He grunted and followed after her, listening carefully to all the information she was giving him.

Finally they came to an office door and stepped inside. Sitting down at one of the two desks, reading files was another man just about his age. His new 'partner' looked up and the two immediately began to evaluate one another. To his surprise the other man almost immediately skipped over his hair and began to absorb other things about him that most people never saw because of their preoccupation with the oddly colored mane atop his head. He guessed that this was because of the other man's own strange appearance. After a minute of silence his new partner stuck out his hand and greeted him.

"My name is Kurosaki Ichigo, I think we'll work well together." Ichigo said it casually as his eyes flicked up from the tattoos that could be spotted from underneath the t-shirt.

Taking Ichigo's hand and grinning fiercely, he looked the orange haired man across from him, his own blood red hair glinting in the florescent light. "I'm Abara Renji, and I agree."

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**Hehehe. Did you enjoy it, because I did. Things are in motion. If you didn't get that the last part was friend Renji's POV I'm sorry, it was meant to look like it came from Ichigo's and pull the rug out from under you. I hope it was more effective than my attempt in the first chapter. Now, I am so happy that I got reviews and many helpful suggestions. I hope this was meatier than the last chapter. At this point in time fate seems to be leaning towards an ichiruki fic. There is going to be set up so the story can go in many directions so if you wish to change fate review now, every single one counts. The next chapter can either focus on Ichigo's and Renji's start at the Seireitei organization or Rukia's mysterious destination, or both. **

**MAKE YOUR VOICE HEARD…REVIEW!!!**


	3. Chapter 3

Merry Christmas!!! This is my present to you, an update after a suuuper long break. Hehe sorry about that one.

**The darker more actiony parts are at the end, the first bits are as close as I will ever come to writing, "fluff" but it is still a completely relevant part of the story, full of character introductions. Yaaaay!**

**WARNING: This chapter contains some more violent imagery. It's not too terrible but I pulled inspiration from a Terry Goodkind novel and that man can get dark.**

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Chapter Three

Ichigo stood there shaking hands and looking at the man in front of him. So this was his partner. He would have been surprised if the red head was more than two years older than him. He had harbored a hope that when they had told him his partner was young that they meant something more along the lines of mid-twenties. Still, Renji looked rather impressive standing at a shade under 6 feet, with a scowl that could match his own, and tattoos that could barely be seen snaking out from under his shirt.

"Well I'll leave you two to get acquainted; Ichigo if you would please fill Renji in; it would make every thing much easier. Oh and there is going to be a Captain's meeting in two hours. You will receive you mission instructions there."

"Will do Nanao. Thanks," Ichigo said to the woman. She waved her good bye as she was walking away. They stood there silently listening to her departure until the last echo of her footsteps died.

Ichigo sighed and gave a detailed tour of their tiny new office. He was dying to know about the man that he would be working with, but waited until they wound their way down to the break room for coffee. He was about to ask Renji how he had gotten in to the force, but Renji spoke first.

"So how did you get this gig anyway? I mean I know I can't be one to talk, but I'm sure as hell curious."

"Well I had been walking home from school when a group of guys decided to jump me. It happens a lot. My hair color is natural but no one seems to believe me when I tell 'em that, so people think I'm arrogant or in some rival gang. Anyway, six of them came at me, one of them had chain and another had a knife. I beat the shit out of the guy with the chain first and used it to break the arm of the guy with the knife. From there I took the rest of them out in about a minute or so.

"I guess one of the agents from this place watched it all go down. Came down and fought me hand to hand for a while then when I thought I was getting the upper hand he just up and drops me. He threw a card at me and asked me if I was interested in law enforcement. Said it was his personal number and to call it if I want to do something worthwhile. Few months of testing and training and here I am." Ichigo finished his narrative with a slightly wild flourish of his hands. He searched the face of the man across him trying to read whatever silent judgment was being placed upon him. Renji cracked a slightly crooked grin and let out what sounded like a sigh of relief. There was still a smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he spoke.

"Thank God, I was gonna kill myself if you turned out to be some spoiled brat whose daddy brought 'im here to play cops and robbers for take your kid to work day."

"No. No worries there my dad just helps run a small local medical clinic. Come on what about you. I mean we're practically the same age, how'd you get in?"

The red head leaned back in his chair with a thoughtful expression. "My story is pretty similar to yours actually. Just a few tweaks. Basically I was walking to go get milk when I heard a gun shot go off. I ran towards it like a dumb ass, and when I arrived I saw a huge gunfight going on between an army of thugs and these two sleek looking guys in suits. One of the guys was about to be shot up by a thug off to the side with an Uzi. I dropped the thug with a crowbar 'fore he got the chance. I don't really know what happened after that. I went adrenaline crazy and just beat the brains out of half the shooters. When it was done the two guys drove me down to some base, made sure I was okay, and told me to meet them the next day at four for some training."

Ichigo had to cough several times to keep from choking on his coffee. "How is that anything like my story at all?!" he spluttered. Renji just shrugged, looking slightly embarrassed. _Well they _had_ said that my new partner had experience working with their agents before,_ he thought to himself. _At least I don't have to worry about him being a liability. _

"I mean they're both about us kickin' ass in front of an agent and getting recruited. So… anyway why don't you show me the rest of this place before our meeting, cuz I got a feeling I'm going to be spending a lot of time here." Ichigo got up and escorted the other man through the winding halls of the labyrinthine base. The headquarters itself was actually underground, beneath the realty office. None of the buildings on the block had basements or cellars for that very reason. It took over an hour but Ichigo managed to walk Renji through the base's basic layout, and ended their tour at two huge, ornately carved doors.

"This is the Captains' meeting hall. We'll probably get called inside in a few minutes."

"So Ichigo, anything I should know about before we go in there?"

"Nothing really, just be respectful and bow. I don't know that much about the Captains, but basically each Captain leads a squad and most squads sort of specialize in a certain area. Beyond that I can't really say."

Ichigo fell silent and looked at the doors. He suddenly felt his stomach grow queasy, and began to scowl. Feeling nervous was not something he particularly enjoyed, but he couldn't help himself. Most squads did basically the same things, but certain squads seemed to be favored for certain tasks. Ichigo felt another wave of nausea. What if he was picked for the forth division? Sure his father owned a medical clinic, but there was no way in hell he would sit at the base all day and sew up the people that got to see all the action. What if, what if―

"Alright Mr. Kurosaki, Mr. Abarai, if you would please come in. The Captains are ready for you," said a man from the doorway. He looked muscled and strong and Ichigo would have placed him around 40, if not for the fact his hair was almost completely white, and the lines around his eyes. Renji stepped inside while Ichigo stepped in behind him. The room was bare of any decoration or furniture except for large chair near the back wall. An old man sat in it looking directly at them. The two could practically feel the authority radiating off of him.

Lined up along each side of the room were four people wearing what looked like white mantles around their shoulders. Behind each of them stood one or two people that almost appeared to be acting as attendants. The old man sat in his chair scrutinizing the pair before him for practically five minutes before he spoke.

"Kurosaki Ichigo, Abarai Renji, you each have shown exceptional talent and will, and so, despite your youth, were admitted into this organization. But make no mistake; in here you are nothing special. Out there you are nothing special. If you choose to become an agent, you will be hunting down one of the most deadly men the world has ever seen. Death is not a possibility it is a fact. Do you understand and except the risks that this job would bring?"

"Yes, sir!"

"Very well. It has been decided that you will serve under the Captain of the 6th division, Byakuya Kuchiki. With him you will be focusing on stemming the flow of crime caused by Aizen and gathering information. Do you except these responsibilities and agree to abide by Captain Kuchiki's orders?"

"Yes, sir!"

"I pray that you will have no regrets, but allow me to formally welcome you both to the ranks of the Seirietie. Meeting dismissed."

Both Ichigo and Renji were at a loss for what to do. As soon as the sudden dismissal was announced their new captain brushed passed them and out of the room. Fortunately their distress was quickly eased by a group of smiling people offering their welcome. A Captain reached out and took Ichigo's hand. He wore a floral Hawaii print shirt and an easy grin.

"Hey there, Ichigo wasn't it? I'm Captain Shunsui. Don't mind Kuchiki that man's all business, but he's a good leader so you should be fine. Any problems with the job you have you should go ahead and share them with him. But if you ever happen to have some sake and beautiful women you wanna share, I should be the first man on your list. Come on me and Ukitake here 'll take you to the barracks and give you some pointers on how to survive. Now let's see…"

Ichigo trailed behind the two older men with Renji. _You will be focusing on stemming the flow of crime caused by Aizen and gathering information._ He would be right in the middle of things, wading in shit, dodging bullets and slipping in blood. Ground Zero.

Ichigo felt a smile fight its way to his features. He turned to Renji and saw that the other man's expression mirroring his own. They both looked like starved dogs ready to sink their teeth into the flesh of their prey.

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After about ten minutes she reached the door to an old beaten up bar. Rukia stepped inside out of the dark of night and into the smoky room. The bar tender waved as she passed him and headed towards the back room. The haze of smoke disappeared but the lingering scent of cigarettes and bud filled the air.

The room was only lit by one small lamp that hung over the middle of a round wooden, table. Though the room's occupants, either seated at the table or lounging on the cushions surrounding it, were all cast in shadows, it only took a few seconds to identify them all. Warmth spread through her. These were just the people she needed to see to get her mind off of things. She stepped in to the circle of light and took up her usual seat at the table.

"Look who finally decided to show. We had started to worry." It had been said in a light hearted, joking manner, but there was still truth behind it. Rukia could see the barely masked concern shining through his beautiful blue-green eyes.

"I'm fine Hitsugaya, no need to worry."

"Huh," another voice grunted, this one much deeper and gravely. "I heard a couple rumors a few days ago 'bout how some poor suckers got whacked by Aizen. Said there was more blood on the walls than there was in the bodies. Now I don't know what the orders were, but most o' Aizen's hits are so clean, people are dyin' in their breakfast cereal."

Rukia winced and turned to the big man. His face chiseled, yet had odd, sharp angles. With his scar and long hair, most people guessed he was in his thirties, yet in reality he wasn't even 26. The eye patch didn't make him look any younger either.

"That wasn't me, well it was, but I got a newbie for a partner and he was the one who really screwed things. You know that I don't make mistakes like that Kenpachi."

The big man laughed. "My. My Rukia you sound more and more like Yumichika every day." Said man took mock offence to the statement, and started the typical round of banter around the table. Rukia let a few breathy laughs loose at the group's usual antics, unable to do much more with her damaged ribs. She was glad that no one seemed to notice.

After around half an hour the door flew open and a small child marched in followed by a woman that looked like most men's walking wet dream. The kid held a bag full of several cakes, snacks and other sweets. The woman, on the other hand, had four huge bags filled with enough hard liquor to down an elephant.

"Hey Mr. Baldy," the girl said, pink hair flashing in the dim light. "Come help with the bags." Mr. Baldy, otherwise known as Ikkaku, stood up from his chair. The air seemed to burn with his frustration and annoyance.

"I'll tell you one last time my name is NOT **BALDY.** Ya got that pipsqueak."

"Oh lighten up Ikkaku, help me with the bags or you're not getting any sake." The woman let out a mighty sigh and surveyed the room. Her gaze kind of froze when it landed on Hitsugaya's white hair. The expression on her face was a mixture of surprise and "oh shit I'm caught."

"Haha Captain, I thought you weren't going to be here tonight. What a pleasant surprise. I was just bringing some refreshments for the boys ya know. Feel free to have some."

"Matsumoto," Hitsugaya hissed. His eyebrow had this kind of compulsive twitch to it. "I thought we had a talk about alcohol and you told me you had stopped drinking." The woman let out a nervous laugh and set the bags down on the table. The two began bickering, while everyone else starting breaking into the drinks and snacks. The little girl, Yachiru, hopped onto Kenpachi's lap and began telling him about her wild adventure with Rangiku. Yumichika and Ikkaku broke out the sake and launched straight into a drinking contest. The steady beat of normalcy began to relax Rukia. Breathing seemed to become easier.

This place was strange. There was constant noise and fighting, both verbal and physical, yet everything seemed to retain the calm of a blossoming garden. Rukia guessed it was because of the people. Even though the group was a motley crew of complete opposites, they seemed to level each other out. The serious and dutiful Hitsugaya managed to keep the wild, party and sake loving, Rangiku in check. Playful, little, Yachiru seemed almost permanently attached to the practically psychopathic Zaraki. Yumichika, who at points was so fashion cautious and girly some people thought he was gay, was best friends with Ikkaku who didn't give a crap about anything but fighting and alcohol. Everything seemed to hold equilibrium.

Three hours and many drinks, card games and arguments later, Rukia and Hitsugaya were leading the shit faced Ikkaku, Yumichika and Rangiku back to their apartments, which happened to be in the same building. As they began the slow going up the stairs Rukia heard a sigh from the boy next to her.

"Hey Rukia, I mean, have you heard anything about Momo, she's been gone a couple of days and I'm starting to get worried. I…I'm always afraid that bastard 'll do something to her and I'll never know."

She winced. This was probably the reason that they were all such good friends. In some shape of form everyone in the little group had some kind of tie to Aizen. In Rukia's opinion Hitsugaya had it the worst. His parents died when he was young and his neighbor adopted him. She was an old woman that was already taking care of her granddaughter, Momo, but was happy to take him in. After the old lady died Momo somehow became one of Aizen's personal toys. They were given free room and board, but Hitsugaya harbored a constant fear for his adopted sister's safety, and a deep hatred for the man she more or less worshiped.

"I'm sorry. I didn't hear anything, but I've been…busy. I'll check up on her as soon as I can." The silver haired boy let out a disappointed grunt and looked out into the night. His gaze was so intently focused on the moon that he failed to notice the pair of extremely large breasts rushing toward him until they were resting upon his head. His face turned red with embarrassment and aggravation as he whirled around to face Matsumoto. His lecture died on his lips as he saw Matsumoto's face painted with sudden sobriety and deep sadness.

"It's late and dark Captain, why don't you stay at my pad for tonight. I don't mind. I could use some help with the hangover I'm gonna have tomorrow too."

"Sure thing," Hitsugaya barely managed to croak out. Rangiku waved Rukia a goodbye after she made sure everyone else was inside. This was one of things that made the weird dysfunctional relationship between Matsumoto and Hitsugaya work. During the normal days Toshiro would be the responsible one in charge. It was why Rangiku called him Captain, because of his tendency to issue commands on proper behavior. Yet Toshiro was still only 15, making Rangiku eight years his senior. The only times the woman ever seemed to show her maturity was when things became to rough for her "Captain" to handle. He needed the emotional support she offered; otherwise his heart would freeze in ice, just like Rukia's had.

Her musings were cut short by a gust of wind that chilled her to the bone. The air tonight seemed unnaturally clean for the city, so why did she think she smelt blood?

* * *

The door slowly swung in the wind, causing the hinges to cry out and weep. Though everything in the room was painfully visible, the atmosphere seemed to be sucking in the meager light creating a blackness that hung about like a mourner's robe. Everything had a certain lack of color to it. There were no reds, blues, and yellows, there weren't even whites. There was only dark and darker.

A lone figure rested on his hands and knees, crouching like a mad tiger waiting for the kill. His eyes were wide and staring, seeing everything and nothing all at once. His nostrils flared, taking a full hit of the stench that clung desperately to the air. Reason fought valiantly to stave off wild delusions but slowly, was loosing the war. A mewling growl escaped his lips, wounded and wild. It possessed qualities neither human nor animal, for no human could sound so feral, and no animal so hate driven.

"Why? Why was I so stupid? How could I be so stupid?" The silently ask questions seem to ring within the walls.

"Everyone told me. Everyone warned me to leave, so why did I do it? I was the only one. The only one who still had family so why didn't I listen? For money. I did it for money, but I didn't use any for myself I did it all for my family! There was no greed." The gentle justifications only served to deepen guilt.

Silently the figure stood. The wind shrieked and the hinges' shrill symphony began to crescendo. The door slammed wide-open allowing light from the street lamps to leak in. A woman, a girl and a lump lay on the floor. **(READ AT YOUR OWN RISK! I'll explain and summarize in my notes for those who skip.)** The woman and girl stared at the ceiling with glassy eyed horror. Their legs spread wide and completely dyed in various shades of purple and red. Their breasts were mutilated to the point they seemed like hanging red mash upon their chests. Why couldn't that be the worst of it?

Most people wouldn't have been able to recognize the red bundle on the floor. What appeared to be left over hamburger meat was a young boy. Little over a year old. It seemed physically impossible for someone to manage to make him so shapeless. At least with road kill most people could identify the carcass. This mop of flesh didn't look human. The figure let out a strangled giggle, after all that was the point.** (Safe for virgin eyes. Now that wasn't too bad was it?)** A hand tentatively reached down into the puddle of red ichor. It was the mixed blood of all three.

Three streaks of blood ran down Grimmjow's face, from his hairline to his chin. It was the blood of his mother and two younger siblings. They were the reason he lived. They were his heart. He thought they would be the reason he died. He only joined Aizen's gang and continued to climb the ranks to house and feed them. Yet it seemed this time the money was soaked in their blood, and not a stranger's.

He wailed again in some parody of a human voice, as if to call Satan to personally help him with his retribution. His cry seemed to define the need and rabid lust for revenge. Grimmjow was right; he did end up dying for his family. He no longer possessed a beating heart, just a huge gaping hole in its place.

Okay hope it was worth the wait. In case I haven't told you I'm extremely lazy. And by the way most of this was written between the hours of 11 to 2 A.M so cut me some slack. Oh yeah, next chapter, what you have all been waiting for… the encounter!! Our Seirietie recruits finally meet Aizen's tortured angel. There also might me some tasty little nuggets of Rukia's past. It's gonna be good.

* * *

**If you skipped the graphic section, all it basically is, is a description of Grimmjow's family's bodies. His mother and sister had been brutally raped and killed and his younger brother had been brutally murdered. In case you didn't understand, he blames himself for their deaths, because he believes that they were killed because of his links to Aizen's gang.**

**I need your help my lovely reviewer's; I have been trying to make this fic grow progressively darker with each chapter. Please tell me if I'm accomplishing my goal. I would also love suggestions if there are any sadists out there who would care to help. **

**Praise me, flame me, just-**

**MAKE YOUR VOICE HEARD…REVIEW!!!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Glon Morski thank you sooo much, for the reviews, and to everyone else who took a few minutes to write one. I know that this is coming out super late but it only came out at all thanks to you guys. Um I know chapter 3 was a bit of a drag but I hope this one picks up the pace. Well I got nothing else to say, enjoy everyone.**

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Chapter 4

The punching bag swung back and forth as his fists crashed against it. Renji imagined his faceless attackers rushing at him and beating them down mercilessly. The sweat dripped down his brow and into his eyes, but he paid it no heed as he continued swerving, ducking, and hitting. His breath was coming fast and labored. He had been at this awhile, and long ago abandoned his shirt to the heat.

He and Ichigo had been working here for a little less than a month. Most of the time they trained, but they did get a few small missions checking out possible disturbances caused by Aizen's group. Renji sighed and stopped his pounding.

He leaned his forehead against the bag. He felt the savage determination well up in his chest; the same feeling that had been driving him since he had entered that gunfight, all that time ago. As a kid he had wanted to be two things when he grew up, a cop or a social worker. Well, that wasn't true, he really wanted to be a reformer, to fix everything wrong with the system. There were too many people that took advantage of the helpless. Memories bubbled to the surface, along with rage.

"_Officer, we swear it wasn't us, please just leave us alone, sir." The young Renji pleaded. He was covered in the grime and filth of the streets, dressed in the discarded clothing of others. He looked up at the man of the law. The one who was supposed to bring justice for everyone, and protect the people. _

_The sole of a boot met his face. The boy cried out as he hit the concrete floor. He could blearily make out his friends calling for him, but the sudden blow coupled with the hunger and exhaustion, made the world spin. The sound of a girl's pained cry pulled his mind from the fog in a jolt._

"_BASTARD!!!" Renji screamed as he charged the man. The cop pulled out his baton and delivered a swift hit to the head. In a second he was on the floor once more with the man kicking his ribs and beating away at any of the other children that tried to come to his aid. When the man was finished he spat right on to the trembling boy's face._

"_Why? We didn't do it, we didn't do it," croaked out the small figure on the floor. The protector of the people only sneered and shook his head in disgust._

"_You little rats have probably fucked something up at some point, and if not, consider it my …executive right. Little fucks like you make my life miserable. Always screwing things up. The world would be better off if we just killed all you damn urchins. Just remember, I defend _people._ Honest tax payers, not filthy animals like you."_

_With that the man left. Renji watched through the tears spilling out the corners of his eyes. He wept for the pain of the beating, for the pain of the words, and for his lost faith in humanity. _

_A small pair of hands propped him up and wiped the blood off his cheek. They were dirty like rest of the things in his life, but, to him, anything associated with_ her_ looked as though it was crafted by an angel. _

"_Sorry Renji, I couldn't do a thing. The police can do any damn thing they want to us and we can't do a thing 'bout it. Just remember, if it's someone like us, beat the shit outta 'em. But if it's one of them, one of the living, keep your head down and take what they give ya."_

_Renji, only nodded at the girls gentle whispering. He was the youngest in terms of time on the street, but was in reality the second oldest in their group. He was eight._

"Abarai, your captain is looking fo… oh my." Renji stiffened as he felt Nanoa's eyes speculatively roam his body. He hurriedly grabbed his shirt and threw it on. A heat completely unassociated with physical exertion crept to his cheeks. Aside from his embarrassment at the woman blatantly checking him out, he hoped she hadn't gotten to good look at his tattoos or scars, the less people who saw them the better.

"As you were saying."

"Ah yes, Captain Kuchiki wishes you to report to him immediately."

"Thank you, Nanao." The red rose once more as he passed and saw the slight smirk on her lips. He grumbled all the way through the corridors until he found himself in front Captain Kuchiki's office. Grimacing, he opened the door.

* * *

Rukia stood, staring at the moon. Its white light cast the away the dark as effectively as the sun ever could. Yet unlike the sun, the light of the moon never burned or stung the eyes, it was calm and gentle. The night's cool caress would have been perfect but for the vulgar calls and grunts of men.

Rukia scowled. As a form of probation, as well as rehab, Aizen had placed her on a detail to help guard drug shipments. It was thug work that required minimal effort and even less brains. She had to mingle with the coarse foot soldiers, and as custom wore a white painted mask. At least this would be the last one.

She watched from the second story of the warehouse as the men hauled enough meth to keep the customers in this area happy and high for a good two months. She felt cold. There was nothing she hated more than drugs like those. They were an evil that destroyed lives and made reasonable people little more than animals. It was a false promise of relief at the price of greater pain later.

Rukia watched as two men completed negotiations and dealings that could potentially destroy the lives of hundreds. She sat and remained vigilant, so she could protect them. Self loathing hit like a hammer. In her mind this was worse than murder. At least when she killed people their suffering ended immediately, and they normally deserved to die anyway. Yet this would create dozens of little living hells all over the place. Not just for the users, but for their families too. Grains of white dust would be the tether that held young girls captive in prostitution. It would cause young boys to keel over in the gutter. It would be the reason kids would end up getting the shit kicked out of them by the people that were supposed to love and protect them.

Rukia gripped the gun so tightly it began to hurt. Her every fiber ached to destroy this affliction, yet she would do everything in her power to guard it, because that's what Aizen told her to do.

The men down below laughed uproariously about some obscene remark. They all were having a grand old time since more than half of them were doped up. The idiots cut open another bag passing it around. One of Aizen's men got it, looking absolutely ridiculous trying to snort it through the mask, when he suddenly fell flat on his face. It was a second before anyone realized there was blood gushing from the side of his head. Some of the men started firing blindly into the darkness, but more, steady, precise return fire rained down.

Rukia watched the path of the bullets carefully. Some coming from the right, most likely positioned in the mouth of an ally hiding behind the dumpsters. Another came in from a raised angle across the street. She spotted a subdued flash from the second story window of an abandoned house. Some of the bullets came in at an extreme angle from the left. A couple of houses down, there was the shadowy outline of a van, which likely shielded the third shooter. Those were the only discernable pathways she could see. With at least three fairly competent shooters, all in good cover, and men and drugs to protect, Rukia's night started looking interesting.

From her vantage in the second story of the warehouse, the only shot that would be difficult to hit would be the one to the left. Rukia looked to the shooter who doing the most damage, the one coming straight on out of the window. She took up her cover and sent three steady shots directly at the window. Fire from that direction ceased and the other two seemed to grow more frantic. She shifted positions and took aim at the dumpsters, squeezing off another three bullets.

Rukia started sliding down. No more heat came from that direction now. Unlike the guy in the building, she was pretty sure that one was still alive, and just ran after being shot at. She hit ground level and ran towards the shipment. There were seven men dead, but only one belonged to Aizen. The ones left living came rushing towards her, masked or not, awaiting instructions. They knew why the hail of bullets had slowed.

There were around fifteen men left alive. She sent two men from the buyers to take their purchase out of the area, and two of her men to take the money back to Aizen. The rest of them fanned out heading towards to the places where the shooters had roosted, cautious of the volleys still coming in from the left. Rukia told three of the men to take a wide arc to try to take out the third shooter while she came in from a more head on position.

Rukia stayed obscured in the dark, moving stealthily so as not to be seen. The pathway she took had her coming in from behind the van and the line of fire of her opponent. The other three should have been hugging the walls and coming toward the target from the opposite direction. She decided to make her move and attack while she remained unnoticed.

Rukia's target could only be seen as a shadowy silhouette. He was wedged in the mouth of an ally and had his front covered by the van that allowed her to sneak around him. She leveled her gun and fired, yet by some freak incident or great training, the man hit the ground just barely avoiding the bullet. He rolled to avoid getting hit by the follow ups, and shot off his own counter attack forcing Rukia to dance. Once more she raised her weapon and fired, but the damn idiot just seemed to be favored by fate. The shot had hit his gun, which went skittering away. She was amazed by his luck to say the least, but there wasn't much he could do now. The man started to stumble to his feet, now fully facing her, with his hands raised in the air in a fruitless bid for mercy.

The moonlight struck his face as she leveled her sight. Even strained with the fear of imminent death, every curve and line of his chiseled features seemed to exude courage and honor. Though the silver light was weak, it still managed to illuminate his eyes, which were alight with compassion. Rukia felt like her chest had been crushed; breath escaping her, and heart stopping.

_The rain beat down in a fury, washing her wounds. All of them, except the most painful. Strangled cries akin to that of a wounded animal escaped her lips. She struggled desperately, but her body seemed to refuse to obey her. The only reason she was able to stay semi upright was the firm grip of a pale hand on her shoulder. The water flowing in the gutter was polluted by a sickening red. _He _turned his head to face her. The twin fires of his eyes that had long since been extinguished by the pain of loss, rekindled for just a moment. His lips curled into a crimson parody of his customary grin, full of resignation instead of cheerful mischief. Her ear splitting scream and the roaring rain could not drown out the sound of his body hitting the pavement._

"Kaien?" The man's brow wrinkled in confusion. He looked like he was just about to respond, when Rukia saw the three men coming up from behind, aim trained directly at the man's back. Her mind abandoned her. She grabbed his jacket, pulling him behind her. Bullets slammed into her body, three hitting the Kevlar vest she wore, one grazing her arm, and another went whizzing by her ear. A moment later all three men fell, Rukia wasn't even aware that she had fired her gun.

The night was deadly silent, and the clatter of the mask hitting the ground seemed deafening.

* * *

"Kaien?" Ichigo was confused as fucking hell. First Byakuya stops shooting, only to be followed by Renji a moment later. Then he gets attacked by one of Aizen's men from behind and gets his ass royally kicked. The kid that jumped him was tiny, too. And just as he thought he was about to die, the guy stops and freezes. Even stranger, was the softly whispered name that he was barely able to catch at the edge of his hearing. Ichigo was about to ask what the hell was going on, when suddenly the kid jumps at him.

Ichigo was thrown completely off balance by the suddenness of the attack. He twisted and stumbled backwards. As he fell, he was able to see the oncoming rush of masked gunmen coming from behind. His brain faltered for a moment, struggling to grasp the meaning of the thundering claps that rang through the night. The kid in front of him jerked violently, and the men that had been rushing in stumbled and fell.

Ichigo stood in shock for a moment, completely uncomprehending. Why would one of Aizen's broken dogs put themselves between an enemy and a spray of bullets and then take out their own comrades? Though it pained Ichigo, he knew the answer didn't matter. His mission took precedence over any questions that he may have. He reached for his spare gun and fluidly pulled it out, aiming it at his savior's head. The kid stumbled and dropped his gun. Ichigo was torn with guilt, but remained where he was, with his trigger finger ready. Once more the child stumbled, and the mask began to slip down his face, unnaturally slow, as if gravity itself wished to keep his identity hidden.

Pale light greeted a pale face, hair black enough to blend with the surrounding night, framing it. Shadows accented the high and delicate cheekbones adorned with liquid rubies of blood. Long eyelashes sharpened a pair of deep set eyes. And those amethyst eyes, already so piercing and radiantly somber.

A girl.

The one who had saved him was a girl who looked to be sixteen, maybe seventeen. She stood there, expressionless and staring at him intently. Ichigo became hyper aware of her ragged and slightly irregular breathing. He took a hesitant step towards her, half expecting her to bolt, but that wasn't the case. If anything she seemed to grow even more still. He took another step, this one larger and bolder. Ichigo thought she would let him reach her, but something he couldn't hear called her attention to the buildings. She focused her gaze on them for a second, then slowly turned back to face him. Ichigo knew that the moment had been lost, but his heart still clenched when he saw the message her eyes.

_Good bye._

She took off, melting into the darkness. Ichigo didn't even pretend to try to stop her. Even if he had wanted to, she disappeared to quickly. He picked up a shard of broken mask, noticing for the first time the intricate black lines curving around the eye. Cold crept slowly upon him, a Hell Butterfly. The mark of Aizen's merry band of psychopathic murders, feared widely as death incarnate. Ichigo broke the symbol off and slipped it in to his pocket.

"Ichigo, pick up the rest of the shards and try not to get your finger prints all over it please." Ichigo practically jumped out of his skin as he looked up and saw Byakuya and Renji walking out from the building the girl had been staring at earlier. A trail of blood followed Captain Kuchiki, and Renji looked at him worriedly.

"You two get in the van, I'll be right the there."

* * *

It was not possible. Simply and utterly impossible. There was no way that it could be right. There was no way he could believe it. It was a ghost, wishful thinking and nothing more. He was sure so sure that she was dead. All of his searching had told him so. She wasn't alive. She couldn't be. His heart wept in an awful hope, that _couldn't _be.

No. She was dead. That could not have been her, because he would have to kill her. Words filled an empty room, spoken from an empty heart.

"I'm sorry, Hisana."

* * *

**It didn't keep its downward dark trend, but I think it's still half decent. Don't worry next chapter will be back on track, along with plenty of fun surprises that I don't want to spoil. I was planning on a bigger flash back from Rukia, but it didn't fit in with what I was doing in this chapter like I thought it would. Sorry. Next one will get gritty and into detail, but I'm having trouble deciding who to focus next on chappie cuz Bleach has such a huge ass cast of amazing characters. My choices right now: Grimmjow, Ulquiorra, Ichigo or Renji. At the moment I'm leaning towards a ren/ruki focus, because the back story that I planned out for them is great. If you want to change my thinking, you know how…**

**MAKE YOUR VOICE HEARD…REVIEW!!!**


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